The Unbranded was never meant to fit neatly into a single category. What began as Kyle Pivarnik’s basement project has grown into a force that pushes against the expectations of genre and convention. Now a full band with bassist Michael Rose and drummer Daniel Brawley, The Unbranded channels the punch of ’90s punk, the weight of alt-rock, and the introspection of post-hardcore into something raw and uncompromising. In this interview, we discuss the band’s refusal to chase perfection, the impact of religious trauma and sobriety on their songwriting, and why making music at 40 is more relevant than ever. If you’ve ever felt like you don’t quite belong, The Unbranded has something to say—and it’s worth listening to.
The Unbranded, welcome to A&R Factory, it’s a pleasure to have you with us. Before we get into the ground you’re currently breaking, we’d love to know the origin story of your band and how it evolved from a solo project.
The Unbranded started as a solo project in my basement in Colorado. At the time, I struggled to find musicians who shared my musical taste. The local scene leaned either toward folky, hippie music or extreme metal—there wasn’t much in between. So, I started writing and recording music on my own.
Even now, I feel like The Unbranded still lives in that in-between space. We’re often told we’re either too heavy or not heavy enough. That challenge became part of our identity—the band exists to explore those margins and push beyond the confines of any single genre.
When I moved to Oregon, The Unbranded evolved into a full band. We’ve been through a few lineup changes over the years, but we’ve finally landed on the right chemistry. Learning to share something that started as such a personal project was a challenge at first, but I wouldn’t go back to doing it alone. There’s a creative energy that happens when you collaborate—William S. Burroughs called it the “third mind”—where the ideas that emerge are ones none of us could come up with alone. That’s what makes The Unbranded what it is today.
Your sound seems to resist being confined to a single genre while channeling contemporary and nostalgic influences. How did you come to shape The Unbranded sound?
The name The Unbranded was a direct response to not knowing how to categorize our music. I was writing songs that pulled from punk, alt-rock, grunge, and even elements of prog and metal. Rather than force a label on it, I just decided, this is unbranded rock. That and I have no tattoos, and I work in marketing!
We all come from different musical backgrounds, but for me, ’90s punk and alternative were foundational. Hearing Kerplunk by Green Day in 1992 was a defining moment—it cracked something open. Growing up outside of Cleveland, I didn’t realize until much later how much the Bay Area punk scene shaped me. Bands like Operation Ivy gave me a sense of identity, while NOFX played a huge role in shaping my political views. Sonically, Tool and Incubus had a substantial influence on my guitar tone, and that mix of grit and melody still runs through everything I play.
Michael and Daniel bring in elements of metal, post-hardcore, and even jazz. That range means we don’t limit ourselves to a single sound. Each song is inspired by something different. For example, Majesty has a bit of a Coheed and Cambria vibe, and we even reference Claudio Sanchez in the lyrics.
Rather than chase a signature sound, we embrace the freedom to evolve. The current album has a sonic identity, but I make no guarantees that the next one will sound anything like it.
In an era where many opt for hyper-polished production, what drives your decision to retain a raw, unfiltered quality in your recordings?
A lot of modern music has had the humanity processed out of it. Auto-tune and algorithmic perfection have pushed things so far that everything sounds too clean.
For us, it’s about balance. We still record in a high-quality studio—No Angels Here was done at Jackpot! Recording Studio, where bands like Sleater-Kinney, Pearl Jam, and The Postal Service have recorded. Larry Crane, who runs the studio and publishes Tape Op magazine, has a recording philosophy that really resonates with me. You can really feel it in the space. It felt very natural playing in that room.
We wanted our album to sound raw but intentional. Some of the song structures are weird, even awkward, but that’s part of what makes them ours. We didn’t want to chase perfection to the point of losing what makes the music feel human.
Making your mark at 40 is no small feat. How do you believe your maturity and life experience contribute to the emotional depth of your music?
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel self-conscious about my age in a scene where a lot of the bands we play with are still in their early 20s. But I remember learning that Dave Wyndorf of Monster Magnet was 40 when they started blowing up, and thinking, “OK, I’ve still got time.”
I’ve come to appreciate that getting older means I have a clearer sense of what really matters. The themes in our songs reflect that. We’re not just writing about relationships or rebellion—we’re tackling bigger questions about identity, purpose, and survival in a world that doesn’t always make sense.
And at the end of the day, I remind myself that music isn’t about how old you are—it’s about connection. And I think, more than anything, we’re seeking to induce an emotional response.
The challenges you have encountered offstage appear to have played a significant role in your artistic development. In what ways have these experiences influenced your songwriting?
Religious trauma has been a recurring theme in my writing, and it’s something all three of us have dealt with in different ways. Growing up in an environment where music was censored and controlled left a lasting impact, and playing in punk bands became an act of defiance.
Another huge influence has been my journey with sobriety. I got sober at 29 and played in a punk band in Denver while navigating the dive bar scene as a sober musician. A lot of our lyrics deal with the struggle of addiction—not just the personal battle but the broader societal impact.
We want our songs to be anthems for people going through hard times. To take those feelings of shame or struggle and turn them into something communal—something that reminds people they’re not alone.
As you prepare to release a new record and embark on live performances, what key messages or emotions are you hoping to communicate to your audience?
We want to create the same experience that our favorite bands gave us. I always say I write songs for my sixth-grade self—to show him that even if the world around you feels hostile or isolating, music can be a refuge.
That’s what we want to offer our listeners: a sense of belonging, a reminder that things can get better, and an excuse to scream your lungs out at a live show.
Reflecting on the ups and downs of your career, how do you envision the future of The Unbranded, both musically and in terms of connecting with your fans?
The plan for 2025 is simple: record the next album, play as many shows as possible, and keep putting out music that feels authentic.
We’ve talked about doing a West Coast tour from Seattle to San Diego. More than anything, we want to get our music into as many ears as possible—whether that’s through streaming, live shows, or whatever comes next.
One thing’s for sure: we’re just getting started.
The Unbranded is a rock band that refuses to be confined to a single genre, blending elements of punk, alt-rock, and grunge with a raw, dynamic energy. Founded by Kyle Pivarnik (guitar and vocals), the band evolved from a solo project into a full-fledged trio with the addition of Michael Rose (bass) and Daniel Brawley (drums). Drawing from a wide range of influences—from the Bay Area punk scene to post-hardcore and metal—The Unbranded thrives in the creative space between nostalgia and innovation, delivering music that is both urgent and deeply personal.
Discover The Unbranded on Spotify.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
